


Where Will We Be Five Years From Now?

by VenomQuill



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Also set in the present, F/M, Five years in the future, I found a reason to like Filbrick, M/M, Relativity Falls, minor swearing because teens swear a lot like man you kids need jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Set in Relativity Falls, this is a snapshot of what happens after the fact. First, it's during those few days/weeks after Weirdmaggedon. The next chapter is five years after Weirdmaggedon. This focuses on the people who were symbols on the wheel: Dipper the Pine Tree, Mabel the Shooting Star, Stanley the Holy Mackerel, Stanford the Six-Fingered Hand, Fiddleford the Spectacles, Preston the Llama, Dan the Ice, Janice the Broken Heart, Maria the Question Mark, and Gideon the Telepathic Star.Also, we get to check up on how the old ladies and Soos are doing. Also, also: New Jersey just got a whole lot more interesting.Edit: Damn, forgot to put a *minor* swear warning for Chapter Two. Whoops.





	1. 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few weeks since Weirdmaggedon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the year 2012.

_Stanley and Stanford_

Stanley and Stanford walked home. Gompers walked by Stanford. Their suitcases rolled behind them. The bus stop wasn’t too far away from “Pines Pawns”, their home and source of income. Stanley hadn’t been at all excited to come back. Stanford, admittedly, was nervous as well. Neither of them had a clue as to how their father would react to their adventures. They didn’t know how he’d react to Stanley’s love of baking and his new scrapbook or Stanford’s new pet goat or his first relationship. But wherever they went, they were going together.

Stanley led them inside. _Tiing-tiing!_ The bell above the door announced their arrival. Their father looked up from the newspaper he held. “Boys! You’re home! You said you’d be home ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” Stanley agreed. “We got caught up in the crowd. Got some pretty cool pictures of a few dogs. I think one of them had horns. But he was just too young to have big ones.”

“I think you’re crazy,” Stanford pointed out, causing Stanley to stick his tongue out at him.

“Yeah, and you checked!”

“Well, I needed to make sure we weren’t in the presence of someone taking care of a baby demon.”

_Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack._ They heard their mother’s high heels against the floor as she walked down the stairs to meet them. “Boys!”

“Mom!”

 

Later that evening, they all sat around the kitchen table. Gompers sat on Stanford’s lap, nibbling on a treat. Stanley and Stanford sat next to each other, their parents beside and in front of them around the small kitchen table. “…and then Stanford just walks up to that gnome monster and gives himself up!” He threw his arms into the air. “And they _bought it!_ Like, hard! So then that dumb gnome, uh…”

“Jeff,” Stanford informed him. “The lead gnome was Jeff.”

Stanley nodded. “Yep! And so then Jeff goes up to him like ‘Oh, sure, we’ll kidnap you and leave your family alone’ and then Stanford’s like ‘nope!’ and whipped out a leaf blower. He sucked that thing into the leaf blower and then _bam!_ Hit straight through the middle! It rained gnomes!”

Stanford nodded. “I shot Jeff into the largest part of their gnome construct, causing it to lose all of its integrity and everything to fall apart.” He dug through his jacket and flipped through his notebook to the first few pages. He showed them the gnome monster and then a drawing of a gnome. “Fortunately, I decided to do my own research on gnomes and cross-reference that with the research Grunkle Dipper did. So, even though the journals are gone, we still have that.”

Ma looked over the notepad, and then him. “Uncle Dipper? He visited?”

Stanford nodded. “Yes. Actually, he wasn’t in this dimension at the beginning of the summer. Grauntie Mabel found him and pulled him into this dimension half way through the summer through a portal they built thirty something years ago.”

“That’s a big story!” Stanley agreed.

“It really happened, though,” Stanford pressed upon seeing the amused look their mother had.

Filbrick sighed. “Stanford, your great uncle was in Brazil when we sent you to Oregon with your great aunt.”

Stanley nodded. “I know! That’s what everyone thought! But he was actually stuck in this interdimensional portal! Hey, I got pictures.” He dug through his bag and brought out a box. He sat it heartily on the table. Stanley took off the top and indicated the scrapbook and a few loose photos. He pulled out the scrapbook. “You see, I’m keepin’ this scrapbook, now. And I got some really good pictures of it.”

“A scrapbook?” Filbrick asked. “The ones your great aunt makes?”

Stanley nodded and flipped through it. “Yep! She taught me how to make and keep a scrapbook. So, I’m keeping a scrapbook.”

Filbrick plucked it out of Stanley’s hand and set it in the box. “You can leave the ‘scrapbooking’ to your great aunt, Stanley.”

Stanley pouted. “But I want to keep a scrapbook!”

Filbrick set the top on the box. “I don’t know what Aunt Mabel has been teaching you, but scrapbooking’s a girl’s activity.”

“And it’s something I want to do!” Stanley tugged the box free and held it tight. “Grauntie Mabel says love is love and doesn’t know gender.”

“Filbrick…” Ma started.

Filbrick stood up and took the box back. “Stanley, I said _no.”_

Stanley stood up to meet his father. Stanford clutched Gompers on his lap, his eyebrows furrowing and his head starting to sink into his shoulders. “Yeah? Well, I like scrapbooking. And you know what?” He stamped his foot on the ground. “I’m putting my foot down, old man. I’m keeping this scrapbook an’ I’m gunna record our time in high school in it.”

Filbrick’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What did you just say to me?”

“I _said:_ I ain’t gettin’ rid of this thing!” Stanley replied, a bit more force in his words. “I’m gunna keep it and record our high school time in it and show it to Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper when we visit Gravity Falls again. You’re dumb if you think I’d throw it away.”

For a moment, Filbrick looked the boy over. Stanley stared him down. Finally, Filbrick relented. “Humph. Finally standing up to me, are you?”

Stanley crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You better believe it.”

Filbrick scoffed and sat back down next to their mother. “Sending you off to that hick town wasn’t a mistake after all.”

Stanley grinned and sat down. “Yep!” He turned down to the scrapbook again. “And you won’t believe what monsters we fought there. Most of these were taken by Grauntie Mabel, so we don’t have as many pictures of the monsters before the zombie party. But we have some of the portal and all the things after it.” He looked at his shocked brother, his smile only getting wider. “What first, bro? The Gobblewonker or the portal?”

Stanford hesitated and cleared his throat. “The Gobblewonker? We should go in chronological order and build up to the portal.”

“Good idea.” Stanley nodded and dug through a bunch of the loose pictures they’d taken- such as the ones of the Gobblewonker. He handed them to Stanford. “So, Grauntie Mabel brought us to the lake for Fishin’ Season! Because it was openin’ day. But then Mrs. Chiu comes running out from the lake screamin’ about how she’d seen the monster!”

 

_Mabel and Dipper_

Mabel worked on a new sweater. Waddles slept at her feet. As she worked on the pastel green sweater, Dipper walked out of the house and sat down next to her on the porch couch. A cup of coffee and a new book were in his hands. For a while, the siblings didn’t speak. Mabel was concentrated on the sweater in his hands. Dipper was interested in the paranormal book in his hands.

Mabel looked over the half-made pig in the fabric. “Hey, Dipper?”

Dipper looked up from his book. “Yeah?”

“Is it winter break, yet?”

Dipper chuckled. “No, I don’t think so.”

Mabel looked up at him. “This is so weird. Since forever I never really thought about it since I had Maria and Dan and Fiddleford here. I was with the girls for Card Night every Saturday night. Sometimes, I got to visit Soos. With the boys here and all the stuff that happened this summer… it feels so _different._ ”

“Things won’t be the same again,” Dipper agreed. “When I was in the portal, I only had myself. I only had me to look after, to defend, to feed, and to work with. Then you brought me back and suddenly I had so many people around me. For the first time in thirty years, there were people depending on me and people I depended on. Now we just… have to go with it.”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah. Before this whole portal thing… man. Where did we go wrong?”

“Bill,” Dipper stated simply. “But also… us not seeing what was right in front of us.”

“What do you think it would’ve been like if we left before you started your ‘real research’?” Mabel prompted.

“We’d probably be chasing down evil spirits in New Mexico or ghosts in Brazil or sirens around the coast,” Dipper answered simply. He took a sip of his coffee. “You got an RV.”

Mabel smiled. “Yeah. I found it and I just couldn’t resist. It’s the _Pines Mabile._ Get it? Ma-bile? Like Mason and Mabel?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Dipper smirked. “Too bad we didn’t get to use it.”

“I took the boys out on a road trip,” Mabel offered.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Dipper closed his book and set it on the couch next to him. “We never really got to drive across the world like we wanted.” He smiled at Mabel and held out a card. Mabel looked over the thing. “What do you think about taking a break from the Shack for a few weeks?”

Mabel didn’t speak at first. The card wasn’t too fancy. Dipper had scribbled down an address on the top and a picture of a ghost by a building near the bottom. “Wait, what?”

“I heard about some ghost activity in New Mexico. I was wondering if you wanted to come with. Maybe help revive the ‘Guide to the Unexplained’ series?”

Mabel looked up at him. She punched him in the arm, causing him to yelp and laugh. “Of course, Dipping dot! Yeah! We’ll go across the country and hunt down some ghosts and become world famous ghost hunters!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and held out a hand. “Dipper the Paranormal Expert and Mabel the Special Effects Extraordinaire! Crossing the country, looking for monsters and showing the world our awesomazingness!”

Dipper half-hugged her back. “Yeah! We’ll get to make an actual ghost hunting show with real ghosts. We’ll prove those fakes wrong!”

“And have fun doing it!”

 

_Candy_

Candy sat between Wendy and Grenda around a large table filled with people. A hand of cards was in her grasp. She looked around at her friends. Grenda constantly snuck glances at Candy. When discovered, she tried her best to make herself look casual. Wendy looked around the room. Many people would be afraid of that grand smirk on her features. After all, she didn’t get her title–“Tough Girl”–by being nice and spunky like Mabel. But Candy was never afraid. No one at this table was afraid of her.

“And le-bam!” Mabel threw down two cards. She only had one left. “Two aces! Beat that Dipping dots.”

“Okay.” Dipper plucked three cards from the many cards in his hand. “Three twos.” Mabel scrutinized him. Dipper smiled. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“I think you snuck an extra card down there,” Mabel accused.

“You gunna call me out on it?”

Mabel looked down at her last card and then the deck. The deck was fairly large. If Dipper had been lying, he’d get too many cards to possibly win. But if Dipper _wasn’t_ , Mabel definitely wouldn’t win. “I’ll allow it.”

“Good.”

Pacifica set down a card, “One three? Yeah, one three.”

Wendy, who sat directly across from her, looked down at the card and then the rich girl. “You think she’s telling the truth?”

Dipper shrugged. “I wasn’t. So, I wouldn’t doubt she would be.”

“I knew it!” Mabel exclaimed, causing a few people to laugh.

Wendy slapped down her hand. “I’m calling you on it!”

Pacifica turned over the card she’d put down with an innocent smile. Indeed, it was a three. “Enjoy the cards, lumberjack.” She pushed the pile over to Wendy, who frowned and took the cards. After a second, she exclaimed, “What is this deck? No one’s been putting down cards right!”

The table of people laughed. Candy was… happy here. Although she was still on the road to recovery, those episodes of slipping out of her composure, her sane state, happened less and less frequently. The episodes she had when regaining memories were getting softer. She still broke a lamp last time she’d jumped back, howling about a particularly bad memory. It hurt, but healing hurts. It was normal.

Candy snuck glances at her best friend. Mabel was doing better than expected. She was still her cheery self. She wasn’t slipping into random episodes of insanity and didn’t show any signs of brain damage. She wasn’t going into violent episodes every time she remembered something. She was quieter, calmer. She gained headaches and would sometimes get overwhelmed by emotion of some sort. Unfortunately, a lot of them seemed to be based in fear or anguish.

Grenda elbowed her. “Come on, Candy! How many fives you got?”

“Three.” Candy set down the cards and looked up at her best friend. Grenda shrugged and looked at Wendy. Grenda smiled at Candy. Candy couldn’t remember much of the last thirty or so years. But she did remember Grenda’s frown. She remembered… not being friends. She and Grenda, who’d grown up with each other since they were third graders in California. But she did know another thing- cards. She remembered this card table, if smaller.

Candy heard the boys’ voices a bit louder here. She didn’t look back, but she knew Preston and Fiddleford were near the living room. “So,” Preston started. “Who gets into that card table?”

“Parents, mostly,” Fiddleford answered. “But Dr. Pines is an uncle, so he’s fine.”

“What about Mable?”

There was a short silence. “Mrs. Pines is a mom, too, but, uh, don’t talk to her about it.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.”

“Yo, Fidds! Preston!” Dan’s voice came from presumably the kitchen. “Get in here! We still need you!”

“Let them play,” Maria’s voice was a bit softer. “I’m sure they do no harm.”

Candy didn’t look back. It was nice to see those boys finally getting along. Mabel sent a knowing glance at the doorway upon hearing Maria. “You know,” Mabel started. “I’m thinking we can invite her over soon. Heh. If you know what I mean.”

Wendy didn’t look back. “They’re not even married yet, Mabel!”

Mabel shrugged. “They’re so in love, Wendy. What do you think they’re gunna name the baby?”

 

_Fiddleford_

Fiddleford, backpack over his shoulders and remote hidden up his sleeve, abandoned the mansion he’d moved into and walked into town. As happy as he was for his grandmother and as grateful as he was for such a house, it was intimidating. It felt big and weird. He was from a humble family. That party Stanford got them invited into–where he got turned into a tree, for the record–was the first time he went into anything so big and fancy. He’d been intimidated then, he was still intimidated now.

Eventually, Fiddleford found himself stepping through a familiar path. Left foot here, right foot here, don’t touch that, take an extra step here, there’s a mother opossum here and she doesn’t like being disturbed, and there’s a hole here hidden under that bag. You don’t want to sprain your ankle again. Skirt around that pile, it’s unstable. You might be light enough to stand on it now, but you won’t be in a few years.

Fiddleford stopped and looked up. He was back in his little place in the dump. Nearby, an area had been cleared out for his larger robots- Biscuit included. He sauntered over to the spot and smiled. He’d built Biscuit here. Mrs. Chiu had showed him how to salvage scrap and how to put things together. She showed him how one person’s junk truly was their treasure. Biscuit had been the first robot with internal cameras wirelessly connected to a screen he could see through.

Fiddleford remembered learning how to weld here. He’d been building a raptor–as he was naturally in love with dinosaurs–but he’d gotten into a block on how to hold it together. Mrs. Chiu showed eleven-year-old Fiddleford how to wield a welder. She never let him use her welder without her supervision. Still, it was fun. He found a love of fire from that experience. He also learned that anything having to do with fire was to be done only in the junk yard where Mrs. Chiu could keep an eye on him and he couldn’t set off any fire alarms. Even when she gave him his very own welder for his thirteenth birthday, she’d been careful to keep an eye on him if he started using it.

Fiddleford wandered the junkyard. Mrs. Chiu wasn’t there. So, he went about plucking bits and pieces of scrap on his own. He was starting to build a hippocampus–a semi-aquatic thing that would look quite good in the water–so a little extra metal and rubber never hurt anyone. He’d forgotten to get a list of what he needed, but that was fine. He could make the walk again.

Eventually, he got to the point where he was starting to tire. So, he dropped off his treasure in his usual spot and wandered out. Fiddleford would get it tomorrow, if time permitted. But now, he had other things to do- sort of. Well, he didn’t have _anything_ to do except unpack.

“Pfft. Look who’s crawling out of the trash bin. You lose your grandma again?”

Fiddleford winced at the noise. He glanced back. Preston and both of his friends were behind him. Preston hadn’t been the one to speak. The one to speak had been the light-brown haired girl next to him. She wore a pretty red, white, and blue dress- perfect for the summer.

Fiddleford didn’t completely turn toward them. If he ignored them, they’d probably leave. In fact, he tried to leave. Unfortunately, that’s not how this encountered was going to go. The brunette boy to Preston’s left wearing a green shirt with a diagonal yellow stripe strode over to him and took him by the back of the shirt. Fiddleford stumbled back and tried to worm his way out of the bigger boy’s grasp. “Obviously,” the boy sneered. “That or he was clothes shopping.”

Fiddleford looked up at him, though his long, dirty-blonde hair got in the way of his eyes. “Let go a’ me! Please. Ah don’t wanna fight with you.”

“What’d you say?” the rich boy asked. “I couldn’t understand you with that dumb accent.”

“Let go of him.”

Both boys looked back at Preston. When the boy holding Fiddleford didn’t immediately comply, Preston walked up to him. “Let go of Fiddleford.”

The rich boy let go of Fiddleford. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Why?”

Preston shooed him off, making the rich boy back off further. “Because I said so. Fiddleford’s a darn hero, Jessy.”

Jessy and Priscilla turned their looks of confusion and surprise into skepticism. Priscilla scoffed, “You aren’t really defending that peasant, are you?”

“I am,” Preston stated. “He’s a good kid. Now either you two back off on the insults, or I’m calling my mom and getting _her_ to tell you off.”

Priscilla and Jessy deflated a bit. Jessy huffed, “Well, fine. He’s not worth it, anyway.” He turned around and stalked off, muttering dark insults at Preston. Priscilla scoffed and followed Jessy.

Fiddleford pulled his shirt down. “P-Preston? Why’d you do that?” _Wasn’t Preston the ring-leader of that little trio? He was the one to pick the fights, most of the time…_

Preston turned back to him. “Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like going through that show again. You saved our skins back there. And you’re too easy. So, it’s not worth it.” He rolled his eyes and looked away. “Just keep it to yourself, farm boy.” With that, Preston swept off in the opposite direction of his friends.

Fiddleford watched him go. He knew that Weirdmaggedon had changed many things. It had changed people and monsters alike. It had bonded them and so now monsters and humans were friends. But of everyone he thought would change, Preston was not one of them. Preston, the bully that had tormented Fiddleford since he moved to town. Preston, the kid that mocked his accent and pushed him down. Preston, the kid who’d trip him in the hall, causing Fiddleford’s backpack to open and spill books and notes over his own head. Preston, the kid who ruined his lunches and snuck in snide remarks during class while the teacher wasn’t looking. Preston, who stole his homework and forced Fiddleford to do it all over again. Preston, the kid who just chased off his own friends to stop them from picking on Fiddleford.

The young mechanic shuffled his feet and then walked back to the mansion. Maybe Bill had done more than just plague the town with nightmares. Fiddleford got braver and wasn’t afraid of as many things, now. After all, Bill was scarier than anything on Earth and his destruction was terrifying as well. Going through that wasteland and surviving for three days on his own, using his robots to help people, bolstered his courage and bled beyond Weirdmaggedon.

Fiddleford looked up at the mansion he was approaching on the hill. He should probably go back to unpacking.

 

_Maria_

Maria pressed a button on her computer. Her boyfriend’s face flicked out of view as the Video Chat window shut down. Maria smiled and sighed. Having a long-distance relationship was… going to be complicated. A few weeks had passed and she was already missing him.

Soos lumbered into her room. “Hey, little lady.”

Maria looked up. “ _Abuelo_!”

The old man stopped by her. “Did I ever tell you about how I met your grandmother?”

Maria shook her head. “No. No I do not think so.”

Soos sat down on her bed. “Really? Heh. Well, I met her when I was just about your age. We didn’t live together, either.”

“She left?” Maria prompted. “You two had to live apart?”

Soos nodded. “She was only visiting when we met.”

“You and _Abuelita_ were so close! I am so worried about…”

“I know, little lady.” Soos grinned.

Maria smiled. “What did you two do then?”

“We wrote back and forth!” Soos answered and launched into his story about how he and Melody met. Melody lived with her parents as they traveled and sold meat from their farm to far away cities. Her little farm lived just a few days away. Since neither were rich enough to afford phones, they lived off each other’s letters. But when Soos created his own makeshift gift store in Gravity Falls, Melody moved in with him as a cashier. They worked in that gift store for forty years and had seven children before Melody passed away and Soos retired. If those old codgers could keep their relationship through mail for a whole year before being able to move in with each other and marry, Maria would have no problem with Michael.

 

_Preston_

Preston, hands in his pockets, walked along the streets. He was not flanked by his posse of rich kids. He didn’t walk with his father or even his mother. He wasn’t with anyone right now and that’s how he wanted it. Funnily enough, weeks ago, he cringed at the thought of walking through the peasant streets. He was horrified by the thought of walking alone through the town, through the crowd of common folk. Now? Just the thought of isolating himself from this town and all its weirdness was enough to make him wander into town to make sure it was still there.

Months ago, heck weeks before the events that transpired in Gravity Falls, he had the comfort of a big bed at night, fancy meals through the day, a posse to be with, money to fall back on, and the cruel joy of belittling people around him. He knew that one day he’d take his father’s place as patriarch of the Northwest family and be known around the globe. But for what?

When that ghost bore down on him like a starved, rabid wolf, he thought he was dead. He saw the crummy life he’d been living, the veil he’d been hiding behind, in that big ax that would soon change from gray to red. But then there was a flash of blue, a world of red, and… his world was changed. No matter Stanford’s intentions, his actions that night had driven a stake in what had been Preston’s world. His mother disobeying his father and banishing the vengeful ghost through bringing joy to the town was the hammer that brought it all crumbling down.

When the events transpired and Bill was in control and his parents were gone, Preston had collapsed into a shivering ball and all he could do was cry and cry and wait for the inevitable end. Then, that lady he’d called a kook pulled him to his feet and held his hand as they walked to safety. The old woman he’d insulted, and whose nephews he viciously abused, dried his tears and made him feel safe. He’d felt safer in that decaying Shack surrounded by the moneyless, the ragged, the dirty, the hungry, and the wild monsters than his own home.

Now, Preston wandered the streets. Terrifying nightmares of the wasteland that was his hometown a few weeks ago forced him into going outside just to make sure the town was still there. Even if he didn’t speak to anyone, he watched and listened. That was enough for him.

Preston watched as that cashier from the Mystery Shack–Dan, was it?–threw a frisbee. His youngest brother caught it and threw it back. Near the docks, he watched as the farm boy–Fiddleford–learned the subtle differences between two types of bait from his fisherman father–Tate, right?–who showed a great amount of patience and even greater amount of joy when Fiddleford got it right. As he walked, he watched as that cleaning lady and her old grandfather–Maria and… Zeus? No, Soos–walked past the arcade, chatting avidly. He watched two teens–uh, Daryl and Ed?–walk together. They held hands and laughed and talked. Lost in his thoughts, Preston didn’t pay attention to where he was going. He just concentrated on remembering names and the people attached to them.

Funny. He’d never played with a frisbee before. He had piano lessons, mini golf, dress-up, decoration, and posture and speech lessons with people he didn’t know instead. He had all the money he could spend and not one toy. He was taught to be disgusted by the sight of bait. Though, admittedly, he didn’t like fish in general, anyway. His father didn’t teach him half of what Preston knew- mentors did and quite often his mother, when she was allowed to. He never spent time with his grandparents. Sure, he went over to their estate, but dressing up in fancy clothes and standing a certain way and talking a certain way made younger Preston resent the visits and thus made teen Preston forget them. At one point in time, two men or two women being in a romantic relationship was a terrible thing and those that did find themselves in such relationships were people he shouldn’t converse with. Still, that farm boy and the Jersey kid had a bond that Preston hadn’t ever seen in his own parents.

Preston stopped. He found himself standing in the empty parking lot of the Mystery Shack. The old hovel had been fixed up quite a bit. Preston looked down at his hand. He remembered sitting down and having to wait for what felt like an eternity as his mother removed all the splinters from his hands. Preston, despite having no skill, insisted on helping with construction and got splinters doing so. Further still, he cut himself wrapping up presents for the old sparkly woman and her old nervous scientist brother. He’d decided that buying a gift wasn’t enough, so he thought for days on what to make them. It was crummy, at best, but the Pines appreciated it.

He looked back up. The place’s sign said “OPEN”. None of the employees were there. They were all out in the town, enjoying the few days before school reopened. Maria had already graduated high school, but summer break was summer break. The bitter memories of the place before him rose up and threatened to make him sick. The memories were not bitter because something happened to _Preston_. The memories were bitter because the only reason he ever came was to tear the place down.

He remembered watching Fiddleford work so hard to fix up a shelf and look so accomplished when he did it- only to have the shelf be broken as Preston got one of his “friends” to nonchalantly break one of the supports. This caused the whole thing to come crashing down. The boy had looked horrified, probably convinced that he himself had done it through neglect or whatever. A few bobbles ended up being broken and the ten-year-old had been near to tears.

Another time, Preston had picked on the same boy for his accent and his odd choice of clothes. Preston had been a real jerk- to that southerner especially. It helped that Preston was more than a bit intimidated by Dan and Maria seemed to disregard any of his insults or threats and be boring about the whole thing. It helped Fiddleford reacted to everything Preston did and said just how he had wanted. A cruel, humorless joke- that’s all it was. That’s all Preston was.

Preston stared at the door. Someone was inside- someone was always inside. The woman in charge welcomed everyone to her place. Preston found himself standing outside of the Mystery Shack, just out of sight, so many times. Before this summer, he’d only bring himself around when no one was looking. He’d see the bright, inviting windows in the deep evening or through the pouring rain or freezing snow. He’d hear the laughter and feel the joy it held. Even when Preston himself felt miserable, the Mystery Shack was always so happy. It was also so much more cheerful and inviting than his own massive home. But any time he got near, something would pull him away.

Preston stuck his hands in his pockets again and approached the door. People spoke inside. Preston felt that force pulling him away again. For the longest time, he thought it was revulsion for being so near something so unorderly and dirty. But now he realized it was shame and guilt for those negative feelings toward this positive place and fear for being rejected.

Preston knocked on the door. A few moments later, Mrs. Myst- Mrs. Pines opened the door. Her bright brown gaze found him at the door and she put on a wide smile he felt he didn’t deserve. “Hey, Preston! What has you wandering over here?”

Preston bounced on his heels. “Oh, I uh… I just wanted to see if all the hard work and money I put into helping fix this place hasn’t gone to waste.”

Mrs. Pines stepped aside. “Well, then: wanna come inside to check up? You’re just in time for a big batch of cocoa- extra marshmallows and glitter!”

“Uh, thanks.” Preston walked inside. The place felt so cozy and homey, despite not costing a million dollars to furnish. Actually, it was probably _because_ it didn’t cost a million dollars to furnish. People moved about. Mrs. Chiu, Grenda, “Tough Girl” Wendy, some more people he didn’t recognize were gathered in the house. Dr. Pines was speaking with Mrs. Chiu. Although Preston thought it was about something technical or paranormal, Dr. Pines’ eyes widened and red dusted his cheeks. This caused the cluster of girls to laugh.

Preston looked up at Mrs. Pines, who whistled at her brother. “Having any luck, lady killer?” The blush he’d adopted only got worse. The scientist wheeled around and disappeared into the kitchen with a lame excuse. Preston cocked his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Fox-food,” Mrs. Pines chuckled. “It’s just a joke. He’s fine.” _It’s just a joke. He’s fine._ Preston began to wonder how he could make such jokes without coming off as being his usual rude, snobbish self. Beings siblings probably helped.

“Mrs. Pines?” Preston prompted. “Are you, uh, having a party or whatever? Since, you know, you’ve got a bunch of people over.”

Mrs. Pines shook her head. “Nope. We’re just gathering around, talking, being friends, teasing Dipper. All in a good day’s fun! Actually, I’m hosting our Card Night here. If you want, you can stay and watch the pro beat some old ladies at cards.”

“You wish!” “Growling” Grenda called.

Mrs. Chiu agreed, “I will be the winner of tonight’s card game. Now that I remember how to play.”

“Oh yeah?” “Tough Girl” Wendy prompted. “You want to place a few bets?”

“Ladies, ladies!” Mrs. Pines called. “Let’s wait for the others before we start threatening each other.”

 

_Janice_

Janice sat in a booth. Greg, his phone’s light dying due to neglect on the table, sat next to her. Their fingers intertwined and shoulders pressed together. Rain tapped at the windows of the diner. Janice grinned and waved to Grenda as she set down the slice of pie they’d ordered. Greg plucked a fork from a holder on the table and cut out a piece for her. Janice jokingly took the plate and pulled it closer to herself. She spotted her parents sitting nonchalantly at the bar a few feet away. A spark of teasing rebellion flared up within her upon seeing her parents toe the line around their date. She took the fork from Greg and pulled him in for a kiss.

 

_Dan_

Dan sat up on the roof of _Gravity Malls_. An open can of Pitt Cola in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other, he watched the town move on. Funny how the last time he’d been on this roof, he was watching demons eat his town and kill everyone in sight. He watched the lumberjack statue by the gas station stomp through the city, lighting things on fire as it went as lit gasoline enveloped its legs. Cinders jumped and crackled as some buildings collapsed into themselves. Far off in the distance was that weird red bubble with the six-fingered hand.

Now, the view was different. The town was it’s normal, quiet self. The train tracks were clear. There was no prison bubble chained to it. The lumberjack statue stood guard by the gas station. Out in the woods, his mom and a team of lumberjacks were working on the forest. Somewhere in the mall, security was probably looking for him.

Dan’s phone buzzed. He looked down at the number. _Janice._ “Hey.”

“Hey, Dan!” Janice’s voice came from the receiver. “Greg, Toby, and I were just about to meet Daryl and Ed at Greg’s house. You coming?”

Dan thought for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Give me a few minutes.”

“Where are you, anyway?”

“The mall roof.”

“Dan! Whoa, seriously? You didn’t invite me?”

“Aren’t you on a date?” Dan prompted.

“Oh. We were. Then my parents crashed it. See you later, Dan!”

“See you later, Jan.” _Click._

Dan put away his phone and downed the last of his soda. “Normal teenage things: here I come, I guess.”

 

_Gideon_

The smaller Pines twins were gone. The Pines twins he knew were about to disembark and make their mark on the world. Gideon riffled through his things. He’d pulled out his closet and drawers and everything else and was separating it into trash and keep. He dwelled over one picture in particular. It was old and worn and water stained. Some of the ink had smudged and faded. One would assume it was old, incomprehensible trash and throw it away. Gideon knew better. He’d smiled at the camera, Mabel in his arm, as the flash went off. He’d been a young boy then, no older than ten. Mabel was two years older than him. They’d had so much fun together.

Gideon found himself aching again. What he would do to be ten again… to be back in California with quiet parents in a quiet neighborhood with quiet classmates and this loud, rambunctious, glitter covered girl who’d successfully bedazzled her face. When she left, the woman Gideon had married had resembled her a bit. She was fun loving and enthusiastic and they had loved each other. She loved him dearly and, for a spell, he loved her back. Unfortunately, the world was too cruel and their love was not strong enough to withstand it. She took the boy they’d had together and left.

So, Gideon ran off. He arrived in the dinky little town of Gravity Falls. Who else would he find but the sparkly girl he’d met in California. She was older, but no more mature than her twelve-year-old self. In hind sight, Gideon was no better than his ten-year-old self. Despite the fact that Gravity Falls had been a temporary place of residence, Gideon had made it his home. He took in his two-month-old grandson when Buddy’s parents split up and neither of them could decide who would take Buddy. They left Buddy with him to settle it without his screaming. They never came back for him.

Gideon looked down at the picture in his hands. The years had been cruel to this little photo he kept. To many–Mabel and Dipper included–it was creepy. Gideon had to agree. It was not right, not healthy, for him to dwell on this impossible love.

“Dad!” Bud called from the living room. “My new skateboard came in the mail!”

Gideon called over his shoulder, “I’ll be right there, Buddy!” He put the lid on his box of old memories and left his bedroom. The old, weathered photo drifted into the trash bin.

 

_Nightmares_

Bill was dead, that much was certain. His corruption was gone and his friends no longer haunted them. But his poison lingered. The poison of fear, doubt, uncertainty, and memory plagued them. No one got away free.

Stanley’s nightmares very rarely involved Bill directly. Instead, he dreamt of that prison bubble he’d been a part of. He’d wake up, either after waking himself up or having someone else do it, and immediately try to discern real from fake. Bandages peppered his arms as, on particularly bad nights, he’d turn to self-harm to make sure he was in the real world. Those nights, their mother or great aunt would have to sit with him, walk him through remembering where he was and that he was still in reality, and then put him back to sleep. On better nights, Stanford could do it himself.

Stanford was hardly any better. Bill and the travesty he brought about haunted his dreams. From his nights out in the wasteland, watching people die on the streets, and having to strangle a beaver to death, to inside the Fearamid where he’d been chased down and captured. Or even before the events when Bill tricked his way into Stanford’s mind. Often, someone had to wake up Stanford because if he did it himself, it was probably because he’d just been discovered and attacked. Unlike Stanley, he didn’t turn to self-harm. He curled up into himself and cried. On better nights, he could be talked out of his shell. On bad nights, it would have to be Stanley. Either way, he needed to see his brother to make sure Stanley wasn’t still trapped by Bill and guarded by Gideon.

Mabel wasn’t free from nightmares, either. Though, her nightmares rarely ever involved Bill, directly or indirectly. They were memories, some pleasant some not, that resurfaced while she slept. Often, it was difficult to discern dream from memory once she woke. Sometimes, when memories of her young adulthood spent by herself came back, she’d be glad to get away. Dipper helped her the most, then. Dipper, who she spent thirty years trying to get back. Dipper, whose absence was the reason for the struggles she had to power through. But some memories, such as a particularly bad night when she remembered the portal incident, were better spent with Waddles and party chocolate.

Dipper was a bundle of nerves day and night. Bill had terrorized his dreams before being thrown into the portal. He terrorized his dreams now. The psychological torture, which eventually became physical torture, ate at his mind. The worst part about the dreams used to be how awful he felt for allowing himself to be tricked. But after the events, the horrible guilt of nearly giving in to Bill made it infinitely worse. When he looked up into the big brown eyes of his concerned twin, he could hardly bring himself to choke out the reason of his fear. Mabel would only make it worse- purely on accident. She was the biggest reason why the guilt hurt him so. If he’d been so weak as to give in, he might never have seen those eyes, bright with mischief, and hear that voice tailed by laughter ever again. He’d have doomed them, worse than they already were, he supposed. So, he’d shake off anyone attempting to help and put himself to sleep again. Or, on particularly bad nights, get ready for the next day.

Fiddleford was used to having nightmares. Prior to that summer, they’d mostly consisted of scary paranormal creatures in Gravity Falls or the last time he saw his mother. Now, Bill still threatened him. He’d grown braver after having to fend for himself for days. He grown more courageous and boosted his confidence with the robots he made that helped defend him. But at night, when he was away from the comfort of family and friends, the memory of looking up into Bill’s giant eye before having his consciousness separated from his body shook him. Facing down demons that turned people to stone or ate people and monsters slithered in the back of his mind like vines seeking to strangle a tree. When he woke up, his father would be there, ready to ease him out of his panic. On worse nights, Tate would take him outside to pick out constellations and chart the stars. Fiddleford would fall asleep again. But being in his father’s arms in a place he knew was safe chased away another terrible nightmare.

Dan was hardly better than the others. He never gave into his nightmares. If he knew his fear was getting to him, he’d open the blinds and stare out at the night forest, turned to silver by the moon. Sometimes, the gentle swishing of the night forest would lull him to sleep. Sometimes, he’d watch the moon sink and the sun replace it. Either way, he wasn’t giving into bad dreams. On particularly bad nights, or nights when he was unfortunate enough to fall asleep and revisit _the events_ , he’d dig out his phone from under some dirty clothes, disconnect it from the wall, and call one of his friends, just to be sure they were still breathing and not made of stone. He’d sometimes get up and check on his sleeping brothers and his mother to make sure they weren’t stone again. On occasion, one might wake up and confront him. They were used to Dan’s paranoia, now. They wouldn’t complain about Dan waking up at three in the morning and wandering into their rooms or waking them up with a phone call. Sometimes, his fingers would slip and he’d accidently call the twins or Mrs. Pines or Dr. Pines or someone close to them. One time, he woke Fiddleford, who seemed to have trouble sleeping as well.

Candy didn’t often have nightmares. If she did, they were past events that were coming back to her in her sleep for one reason or another. Her mind hadn’t been as effected by Bill’s terror as everyone else- especially those children. Though, a paranoid fear that kept nagging at her was concerned with her friends- one best friend in particular who had her entire memory wiped out and slowly recollected. Now that she and Dipper were continuing their “Guide to the Unexplained” series where they traveled around the globe in their RV, Candy couldn’t just get up and walk to their house. Most communication was over the phone, e-mail, or through mail. Still, that didn’t help with Candy’s paranoia. Grenda helped, though. Staying with Grenda always lifted her spirits. Teaching her grandchild all about robotics always helped as well. Helping her son or just telling stories and having fun got her out of any mood she might have.

Preston never had trouble with nightmares. He never had a reason to be afraid. Even during the Oddpocalpyse, he felt _safe_ with Mabel and Candy and everyone else in the Shack. He knew that no matter what happened, they’d prevail. But at the end, when Bill tied up Mabel and Dipper and held them like dog treats to an enraptured audience, things changed. Bill’s power disconnected his consciousness from his body as if he’d been thrown out. He had this weird dazed feeling before everything went out. When he came back, it was horrible. The first thing he saw was Dipper pointing a gun to Mabel’s head. The gun’s light dimmed and he lowered it. Then, everything Bill touched was undone and pulled into the closing rip in the sky. He hadn’t gotten over the shock of it all. Now, even when he dreamt, it was difficult to discern real from fake. A time that had once been his safe haven, a comfortable time where he needn’t do anything but sleep off a good dinner, turned around and bit him in the neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a reason to like Filbrick! After watching "Dreamscaperers", I just thought about what Filbrick did for the boys. Sure he's an ass, but he enrolled Stanford and Stanley in boxing to toughen them up, something Stanley passed onto Dipper. After he passed, Stanley got his fez and wears it nearly every day. There's resentment and hate and (After Tale of Two Stans) I can't deny he's a bad person. I'm not even saying I like him, because I don't. But there's good in everyone, even if it's buried down deep. The dialogue I took from "Carpet Diem" when Stan is talking to Mabel/Dipper. Also, everyone hates him so I thought I'd challenge myself to find something to like about him.
> 
> Preston was a jerk in the original show and, when I started writing him, he'd be a jerk in the book. But then, as I wrote and went from scene to scene, I found myself liking him. I found him changing. He has a long ways to go, but after "Northwest Mansion Mystery", Preston changed for the better. Priscilla and unnamed rich boy (who I'm nick-naming Jessy) are his snobbish friends. But since they didn't change from their snobbish ways, Preston decided to leave them.
> 
> Also, I love writing about Candy and Fiddleford is my favorite character. Random facts of the day.


	2. 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been five years since the events of Weirdmaggedon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the year 2017.

_Stanley and Stanford_

The noon sun glowed over the city. The gentle, hissing waves of the beach shimmered and shone under the brilliant light. In a semi-circle around the old high school building, parents, teachers, and children backed away. A monster roared and shrieked and clung to the top of the roof. Its stony wings spread wide and it snapped its giant beak at them. Everyone backed off- that was, all but two seventeen-year-old boys.

The twins stood side-by side in the center of the square. Stanford held his crossbow and stared up at the top of the building before them with hard, gleeful eyes. Stanford’s journal was hidden just under his jacket next to a high-tech, modified taser. Stanley clutched a rope in his hands, a giant grin on his face. He raised one hand next to his mouth and yelled, “YO, UGLY! Get down here and tell that to our faces!”

The monster, its basic body shape like a tiger but only having stripes from the waist back, shrieked and snarled at them, its spiked tail whipping back and forth. Curly ram horns glinted in the light. Armadillo plates ran along its back. It moved and revealed a pink backpack in its eagle front paws. It snapped its beak again. Finally, it launched itself off the school building and swooped. The crowd cried and shouted and scattered. Both boys ducked. The monster’s talons just missed Stanley’s head. Stanford’s crossbow went off with a _thi-thunk!_

The monster cried and flew back up. A crossbow bolt dug into the furry part of the base of its wing, just below the plate on its back. Stanford shouted in victory, dipped another bolt in his home-made poison, and notched an arrow. Stanley glanced at his brother. “And here I thought we’d be working on our science fair projects all evening!”

“We should be,” Stanford countered, aiming his crossbow. “Don’t think that because a demon is attacking us, I’m letting you get out of working on your schoolwork.”

“Okay, Mom.” Stanley shifted his grip on the rope. “Take ’em down already!”

The monster, its flight unsteady, snarled and circled. _Thi-thunk!_ Another bolt flew and hit its hind leg.

“A third should do it!” Stanford called and notched another poisoned bolt.

“Good!” Stanley dug his feet into the ground. “I thought we’d have this thing circlin’ us forever!”

 _Thi-thunk!_ The monster cried as a third bolt dug into its chest. Thoroughly infuriated, in pain, and now drugged, the monster fell into a messy dive. Stanley threw his rope up and flattened himself to the ground. Stanford flopped down as well to avoid the creature’s talons. Stanley jumped up and Stanford grabbed the rope he held as well. The end of the lasso snapped over the creature’s neck. It gagged and attempted to fly up.

“No, you don’t!” Stanley yelled and jerked the line back. For a while, the tired monster struggled and thrashed and attacked the rope. It was no use. The homemade poison that slowed down its use of adrenaline and sapped it of strength was wearing on the creature. It landed on the ground on all fours, stony wings above it and head down. “Uh, what now?”

“Dodge!” Stanford let go of the rope and ran off.

The monster charged Stanford, snapping its beak and tearing its claws into the ground. Stanley hopped back and tugged the line. He skidded in the dirt, but his own brute strength and the monster’s failing energy worked with him and caused the creature to stop. It snarled and tore at the rope. “Nope!” Stanley ran up behind it and jumped onto the thing’s back. It shrieked and reared. Stanley grabbed it by the horns and forced it down. “How’s the dirt taste, sucker?”

Stanford took out his red, leather journal with the golden, six-fingered hand marked “2”. The monster snarled and bucked and struggled but couldn’t throw off the boy on his back. “Okay. Now all we have to do is banish you.” Stanford let go of the journal with one hand and held it out. “Okay, demon. Let’s put you back where you belong.” Stanford started chanting an old spell he’d found in Gravity Falls. The monster roared and bucked and thrashed. It was no use. Glowing blue ropes snapped out of the ground and coiled around the monster. Stanley jumped off it and landed in a roll a few feet away. The ropes grew in thickness and constricted around the monster. Finally, the creature was completely enveloped in blue light. The ropes flashed and then vanished. Three bolts, Stanley’s rope, and a pink backpack hit the ground where the monster once was. The grass had been burned in a giant rune.

Stanford held out his hand. “Mystery Twins!”

“Yeah!” Stanley high-sixed him. “Mystery Twins!” He took out his camera, hooked an arm around Stanford, and then took a picture of them both above the place where they’d banished the demon. “Scrapbookortunity!”

As Stanford scribbled down the mark left behind by the griffon-demon and then drew the griffon-demon, Stanley picked up the backpack and sauntered over to where a girl hid next to a teacher. “I believe this is yours…?”

“Carla! Carla McCorkle.” The girl took the backpack and hugged him. “Thank you!”

 

_Mabel and Dipper_

Sunlight, old and dying, glinted over the ruined settlement they were approaching. A city blinked to life in the distance. Their RV/lab was parked a few yards away, hidden in the trees on in an area well off the beaten path. Dipper and Mabel slowed to a creep. While both people held onto their backpacks and gear, Mabel was the one carrying their camera–modified greatly by Candy and her apprentice and grandson, Fiddleford–while Dipper carried a foldable screen. Once they got near a place where they would no longer be able to effectively hide behind the trees, they stopped.

Dipper unfolded the sheet he held. “DIPPER AND MABEL’S” was written in large letters at the top, “DIPPER” being in blue, “AND” being in black, and “MABEL” being in pink. In the middle were the words “GUIDE TO” and under that, “THE UNEXPLAINED”. Lining the very bottom was “#759, ‘Haunted Civilization’”. Dipper stood up straight, held the board before him, and put on a straight face. He nodded.

Mabel turned on the camera.

“Welcome to Dipper and Mabel’s Guide to the Unexplained,” Dipper started immediately. He lowered and folded the board. “We’ve heard legends from local hikers about odd phenomena- trees whispering their name, shapes moving in the distance, screams in the forest, and the odd missing hiker. Normally, these can be attributed to the normal workings of the forest and human meddling. But in our research, we’ve found _this._ ” He pointed to the town. Mabel turned the camera to it. Dipper put away the folded board in one of the pockets of his backpack. “This is an ancient Mesoamerican settlement, one of many destroyed by European settlers. We think that perhaps vengeful spirits still linger here. We have multiple theories as to what could be happening. Mabel?”

Mabel gently handed the camera off to Dipper and took out a handful of papers. Once the camera was turned on her, she smiled and held up the first picture. A few ghostly people stood near a broken building. _“Spirits wanting to go home?”_ was written on the side and pointed to the cluster of people. “One theory is that some people who died never went back to the afterlife. They want to go join their families, but they don’t know how. So, they try and ask hikers, but aren’t very successful.” She flipped to the next one, which showcased a person wearing a coyote skin with magical, colorful glitter around their fingers. _“Yenaldooshi”_ was written very carefully next to it. “Maybe they’re witches that still live here and want revenge on the people who killed their people.” The next page showed a few trees with faces. _“Haunted trees?”_ “Maybe the forest is haunted and doesn’t like people.” The last picture was of the broken town with a nervous hiker. _“Spooky stories?”_ “Or maybe people are paranoid because of the stories people here tell.”

Dipper handed the camera back to Mabel, who put away her theories. “Well, we’re about to find out. The hikers say it happens most frequently in the late afternoon, and many say at night when spirits are most likely to roam. It’s happening by the trail, but there are accounts of it happening inside of the civilization.”

With that, Dipper crept up to the town. Mabel followed him. As they walked, she showed off the broken town in all its glory. Eventually, they got to the edge of the town. “Now, we have to be very careful,” Dipper explained in a hushed voice. “We don’t know why the spirits here are restless.” Dipper jumped as something shuffled in a building nearby. The old man glanced back at Mabel and the camera and then to the roofless house that made the noise. Taking great care to walk in such a way where he could jump back, Dipper approached the house. Mabel, standing far enough away to not be knocked over by Dipper if he did flee, but close enough to get a good shot of the building, followed.

Within the small house, a coyote carried a rabbit. Its eyes flashed in the subtle light of the sun and it stared at them, tense and completely still. Dipper and Mabel kept still as well. Was this truly a coyote or one of the witches of legend? Dipper took a step forward. The coyote leaped out a window and vanished into the evening town.

“Animals are expected to live here,” Dipper went on, facing the camera. “But just to be sure these stories aren’t just animals, we’ll need the proper equipment to look for signs of ghostly signatures.” He pulled out what looked like a metal detector used to look for metal under the ground. He slowly swept the piece of equipment back and forth. Eventually, the sun dipped too low below the horizon to easily see. “In order to not disturb anything here, we can’t light a fire or shine a flashlight.” Dipper and Mabel pulled on night vision goggles. Mabel switched the camera to night vision.

Eventually, the very determined ghost hunters hesitated. Dipper’s EMF detector beeped. Dipper breathed, “We’re getting a signal.” As Dipper walked, the EMF detector fluctuated. Whenever the signal got smaller, Dipper would turn back. Whenever it got bigger, he’d continue in that direction. Finally, the EMF detector flashed at its greatest setting. They stopped and looked up. Before them was a broken statue. It was so old and weathered, they couldn’t tell what it had been before the settlement fell. Dipper looked back at the camera. “It’s very common for ghosts to haunt specific things. Statues, paintings, jewelry, specific houses- ghosts are often tethered to these places due to their history. It is no surprise a ghost would be tied to a statue.”

Dipper looked back to the statue. The EMF detector turned itself off. Dipper frowned and messed with it. When it turned back on, the signal blazed at full power.

The statue began to smoke.

The twins gasped and stepped back. The smoke writhed and twirled and condensed until it was the image of a woman draped in plain, if beautiful clothes. They looked new despite being an ancient clothing style. She stared down at them with eyes void of pupils. _“What are you doing here?”_ Her voice was quiet and void of emotion. Yet, somehow, it echoed over the entire town.

Dipper put away his EMF detector and stood up straight. “We are here to ask of your presence. Why do you linger here, spirit?”

 _“I have been here for centuries,”_ the spirit admitted. _“While this town was wholesome and new, I was bound to my statue. I died a hero, defending this town against monsters. When I died, I was bound to this statue to look over my town for all eternity. But then the white men came. I watched as they tricked the people of the South and threatened the people of the North. I defended my city for as long as I could. But eventually, the forces became too great. Now I haunt this ghost town. I’ve watched it crumble around me. I defend this rubble that was once my home.”_ She looked over the crumbled town they stood within.

“Spirit, if your job is done, why don’t you leave?” Dipper asked.

 _“I cannot,”_ the spirit answered. _“My soul was bound here for all eternity. I cannot leave, even if I wanted to.”_

“What if we freed you?” Dipper offered.

_“Freed me?”_

“Yes, unbind you from this statue.”

The spirit looked down at him and paused to consider his words. _“What would you have me do in return?”_

“Leave to the afterlife.”

The spirit was quiet. _“Is that truly all?”_

“Yes.”

_“Very well.”_

Mabel kept the camera in a good view of both Dipper and the ghost as Dipper set up the proper equipment and exorcised the ghost. Once the ghost’s smoky form dissipated for good, and Dipper’s ghost tech didn’t blare, Dipper turned back to the camera. “That concludes Anomaly Number 759, Haunted Mesoamerican Civilization.”

Mabel turned off the camera. “Ha-ha!”

Dipper grinned. “A ghost! I almost thought this place was going to be another bust.”

“Welp, when you hopemagine, nothing can go wrong,” Mabel announced. “Can I put glitter effects on the ghost?”

“Mabel, this is a serious ghost hunting show,” Dipper pointed out.

“This was a _serious_ ghost hunting show? Must’ve forgotten.” Mabel shrugged. “What? Dipper, it’s been years. I can joke about it, I hope.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dipper sighed. “I’m just being paranoid. Come on. Let’s go re-watch the footage over a cup of Mexican hot chocolate.”

Mabel grinned and followed him. “Yes! Finally! I learned how to speak Spanish for that cocoa.”

“You know, like, three words, Mabel. And they’re all wrong.”

“Psssh. The lady at the register understood me.”

“You literally asked if you could eat her firstborn.” Dipper couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice any longer.

“Well, what if I had been intentionally asking that?”

“You were trying to buy yarn.”

“Touché.”

 

_Fiddleford_

Fiddleford held up the bird in his cupped hands. “Okay, Daisy. You’re my ticket inta West Coast Tech.” The robot hummingbird, unpainted, didn’t react. He took a deep breath and wheeled his chair over to the windowsill. He set down the bird. It’s metal exterior glinted in the later afternoon light. He donned his headset of earphones with headphones over it and what looked like scooba goggles without plastic over the nose and no way to see through them. He picked up a remote and turned the bird on. “Let’s see what ya got, buddy.”

The bird whirred to life and stood up. Each time Fiddleford moved his head, the bird would move with it. The cameras in its eyes fed into the screen within the goggles Fiddleford wore. The bird spread its wings and buzzed out of the house. Fiddleford grinned and moved it back and forth. Daisy did everything he commanded her to do. The bird flew around the giant garden and then over the wall, out of the sight of the mansion.

A fairy looked up at the bird’s approach and waved.

“Hello! Are you Fiddleford’s bird?”

Fiddleford nodded.

“Your bird is shiny,” the fairy pointed out. “Say, we are hosting a ‘Get Well Soon’ party for my sister. She has fallen ill. Do you want to come with us?”

Fiddleford paused to consider the notion, and then nodded.

“Oh, good! We live in the glade, just south of the nail salon. It’s tomorrow at noon. We’ll see you there!”

Fiddleford pressed a button on the side of his remote. Daisy trilled. The bird flew back over the wall.

“Oh, you’re beautiful, Daisy,” Fiddleford breathed. The bird came back through Fiddleford’s window. He pulled up the goggles enough to allow him to see well enough to open his door. “Ah’m gunna turn off the lights!” Fiddleford called.

“Don’t be too long!” came the voice of his father. “Not the whole floor!”

“Got it!” Fiddleford sat back down at his desk. A control panel was on the wall above it. He flicked a few switches. Half of the first story went completely dark. Blinds automatically shut over the windows to make it as dark as possible. He flipped his goggles back on. “Now, let’s see how you fair in the dark, Daisy.”

The bird turned on and flew up. It was way too dark to see anything. Sheathes over the cameras in the bird’s eyes retracted and the lens widened to let in more light. It still wasn’t enough. He switched between various modes- light, UV, heat, and night vision. Heat made interesting patterns, especially since light sources in his house gave off heat. Night vision helped him out the most, though. “Hmm… still ain’t enough. How ’bout a bit of seein’ with our ears?” Fiddleford mumbled to himself. The bird let out a chirp so high-pitched, humans couldn’t hear it. Every surface in Fiddleford’s room and part of the hallway that he faced flashed in a red grid. The bird flew through the doorway. Using echolocation and night vision, Fiddleford was able to get Daisy to traverse the house. Daisy stopped by his father’s door. The bird pecked on a whiteboard on the door in a series of taps and drags. “ _Dad? Can you hear me?_ ”

“Yeah, I heard you.” His father called back.

 _“So, my sound amplifier works? And my translator from Morse to English?”_ Fiddleford grinned.

“Works about as well as the last three times you asked,” Tate answered, a smile in his voice. “Now, are you done with the lights or what?”

 _“I’ll turn them back on. Give me a second.”_ The bird buzzed back to Fiddleford’s room and landed on his desk. It’s camera lenses shrank and sheaths fell back over it to return to its original position. The bird flattened its wings to its side and retracted its legs to “sit”. Fiddleford lifted his goggles and tapped a few glowing buttons on his control panel. The curtains throughout the house opened and the lights turned themselves back on.

Fiddleford took off his headset and held up the bird. “Ah need to get you painted and then we’ll see how the judges react. Maybe Mrs. Pines can give me a few paintin’ tips when she gets back. She’s good at that sort of thing, eh?” He laughed and looked around his room.

When he first moved in, this giant workroom with a big table and a fancy rug had been intimidating. But now, years later, he’d turned it into a cozy place with scrap lying here and there, pictures, robots, a few scattered clothes and towels around the place. A large work desk bedecked with tools dominated a part of the room as well as shelves of parts, tools, and a music player. The walls, at one time, were very white. One would have never guessed it looking at seventeen-year-old Fiddleford’s walls, which were covered completely by blueprints and photos. His ceiling had been painted like a partially clouded sky. Stars from the summer nights whenever his favorite constellations were out had been meticulously painted in glow-in-the dark paint. He’d given away his star night-light as a birthday present to his cousin’s first daughter.

He looked at a photo of himself and Stanford on his desk. They were in New Jersey. Fiddleford was still adjusting to the overwhelming salt and water on the wind. They were both wet and both smiling. They were, what, fifteen in this photo? He chuckled to himself. A new photo would replace this one: graduation. They were graduating this year and they were both going to West Coast Tech.

 

_Soos_

Soos slowly sank into his favorite chair in the living room. It was in a corner so he could see everything going on. He had a good view of his favorite pictures on the walls. He had to put on his glasses to see most of them, though.

Right now, the living room was quiet. It didn’t bother him now as much as it had a few years ago. He gave up on driving a few weeks before the… _events_ happened. So, he donated his truck to the cause. It had been the left foot of the Shacktron, later being torn off by Bill and used to beat the robot senseless. Regardless, that meant he no longer drove to town. He didn’t see his buddies at the Civic Center any more. A few would come over to visit him, as most of them were younger than him and still able to legally drive. But those visits were getting scarcer and scarcer.

Ten years ago, his wife left with the promise of seeing him again, however long that might be, with the angels. Decades before that, all seven his children–whether of his own flesh-and-blood or adopted–had scattered in the wind. They left to start their own families, have their own kids. They’d visit on holidays and send letters and phone calls of how well they and their own children were doing. Some had gone along to make him a grandfather. The only one he had on a consistent basis was one of his middle granddaughters, Maria. She lived with him. She left in the day to go to work but was always consistent with coming back in the night and on the weekends. Now, however, she was spending less and less time at home. She had a fiancé. Soon, she would have children of her own. Soos was more than happy for her. Maria deserved a good husband and good children of her own. Still, that meant his house would be empty… right?

No, his house was far from empty.

Soos opened his eyes and watched as a few gnomes lumbered into his house through the front door. During the events years prior, monsters and humans worked together. It used to be the monsters were a plague on humans and humans likewise. But during _the_ _events_ , they were forced to work together. When the Pines and Candy Chiu brought them together in the same house, they found a likeness in each other they’d have never found previously. Now, his home was no longer empty in the day.

The two chaperon gnomes and the young gnomes, fairy, and various woodland creature children that bounced around the gnomes hobbled up to him. Once the little things found themselves looking at Soos, they cried, “Grandpa Soos! Grandpa Soos!” They escaped the grasp of their chaperons and gathered around the old man. Even the speechless fox and rabbits they had with them stood in front of “Grandpa Soos”.

Soos leaned forward. “Hey, little doods! What’s happening?”

The fairy exclaimed, “Carson and Jason brought us here!”

The adult gnome on the left introduced himself as Carson, while the right was Jason.

The little gnome beside the fairy hopped on his heels. “Can you tell us a story, Grandpa Soos?”

“Story! Story!” The other children exclaimed. The bunnies started hopping in place–which Mr. Pines called “binkying”–and the fox pup chattered in agreement.

“Okay, okay!” Soos waved a wrinkled hand. “What story do you want to hear?”

“The one with the giant robot!” the gnome kid beside the bunnies answered immediately.

“The giant Gideon-bot, huh?” Soos tapped his chin. “Hmm… I guess. But I’m forgetting some of the parts. You’ll have to help me remember them, okay?”

The children nodded immediately and sat down.

“Okay, so I was at the Civic Center when it happened,” Soos began. “Maria had left for her bus driver job a while ago. My buddies and I were…?”

“Playing cards!” the children answered immediately.

“Right! Playing cards!” Soos agreed. “And I was winning, right?” This gained nods of confirmation from the little ones. “Hehe. Glad I still got it. So, anyway, my daughter, Maria, calls me. ‘There’s a robot!’ she said. ‘A giant robot is attacking the twins!’”

As Soos spoke, the children watched and listened with the upmost attention, as if they hadn’t heard the story a dozen times before. The Gideon-bot story was their favorite of all of his stories- even more so than the one where a video game character came to life and started punching everything. Soos remembered every one of his stories very well, but the kids loved helping and got very happy whenever they got facts right. Though, admittedly, Soos _was_ starting to forget some things. Well, he was in his late eighties. That was normal. Still, Soos counted himself lucky. He was lucky in so many ways that many other people his age–even some younger–were not.

 

_Preston_

Preston, a folded umbrella in his hands, watched Fiddleford work. The boy was so focused on the two-headed dog he was working on, that he didn’t seem to notice the sky grow dark. After about a minute of not being noticed, Preston whistled to get his attention.

Fiddleford gasped and dropped the little tweezer-like thing he was holding. “Huh? Oh! Hello, Preston. Didja need somethin’?”

Preston shook his head. “No, but I think you do.”

“Ah do?” Fiddleford hesitated and then looked up as Preston pointed to the sky. “Ahh. Yes. It’s about ta rain.” Fiddleford turned back to Preston. “Thanks! Ah hadn’t even noticed.”

“Apparently. I’ll call over a truck and get that thing over to your grandma’s mansion.” Preston took out his phone.

“Oh, you don’t have ta trouble yerself. I’ll find a way to get ’im home.”

Preston held the phone up to his ear. “No. I don’t want that thing getting ruined. I _did_ tell my dad you’d have a really cool invention. I have to one-up that snob mechanic he brought over somehow.”

 _“Hello?”_ the phone piped up in a feminine voice.

“Yeah, hey. Preston. I need a pick-up truck with a hood on it over at the dump before it starts raining. Just charge Auldman Northwest’s card. Can you do that?”

_“Um… yes, yes I’ll call one over immediately. The, uh, pin number on the card?”_

“Seven, four, two, four. Thanks.”

_“You have a nice day.”_

“’Kay.” Preston put his phone away. “So, did you get that thing working?”

Fiddleford smiled and nodded. “Yep! Gravy’s ready ta take on just about anythin’!”

“Gravy?” Preston looked over the giant two-headed dog. It was mostly black, though it had a white chest, bottom of its paws, and a little bit of white on its belly. It’s lower sides, most of its legs, and parts of its lower shoulders were a reddish brown. Its tail was a black snake with a white head. Both floppy-eared heads were identical and a bit more complex. They were black with a white muzzle, a white strip that went between its eyes almost to its forehead, and reddish-brown cheeks and dots above its eyes. Its left head had a blue leather collar and the right one had a red leather collar. “So, you named a two-headed dog with a snake for a tail ‘Gravy’?”

Fiddleford chuckled and nodded. “Yep! Ah made a three-headed dog when Ah was thirteen and named her ‘Biscuit’. Ah thought the name would fit.”

Preston shook his head. “Well, I guess it’s fine. Just make sure he’s formidable, alright?”

“You got it! Wanna see how he works?” Fiddleford picked up the remote that was on the ground by his feet.

“Hmm… eh, whatever. I have some time to kill. Let’s wait until we get back to your place first.”

“Oh o’ course. Heh.” He glanced up at the sky, which was darker and grayer than it was a few minutes ago, and packed up his tools.

Preston looked over the exit of the dump. “Heh. The guys wouldn’t have wanted to be caught dead here.”

“Yeah. Ah’d expect not.”

Preston frowned at the tone Fiddleford had taken. He glanced back at him. God, Preston and his former friends had been so cruel to the boy. Even now, five years later, mentioning the snobbish boys still brought an ache to Fiddleford’s tone. So, five years later, Preston was still trying to make it up to him. Mentioning the snobbish boys Preston had left behind years ago didn’t seem to help. “So, when’d you say those Jersey kids were coming back?”

Fiddleford brightened. “Oh! Ford said he and Lee were going to be here next week.”

“How’d they say they were getting here?”

“Uh, train Ah expect,” Fiddleford answered. “No other way for them ta get here.”

Preston shifted his weight to his other foot. “Eh. That Lee boy still owes me for dumping Kool-Aid on Hunter last Christmas. I’ll find a way to get them on a plane.”

Fiddleford shut his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. “Ah’m sure he’s got an apology nice and neat for ya.”

Preston raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Nope. He’ll mess up somethin’ else of yours,” Fiddleford pointed out with a chuckle.

Preston shook his head. “Yeah, I can imagine.” He watched as a large truck turned the corner. “I’m going to see if my mom will fly them over, anyway. That’s the truck, by the way.”

Fiddleford grinned and put on his headset. “Thank ya, Preston!” The dog came to life.

 

_Janice_

Janice, her gray hood over her head, plucked at her guitar. She muttered words and phrases under her breath as she did so as if playing a purposefully out-of-tune song. Each time someone got too close, she’d watch them pass. The Speed Beaver bus rolled past her. She glanced up at it. “GRAVITY FALLS” glowed in bright letters above it. Janice put away her guitar and, brandishing a ticket, stepped onto the bus.

Janice kept her guitar case on her lap as the bus drove off. A few boys sat down on the seat across the aisle from her. Janice kept her hood low and her dark hair shadowing her face. Even now, at twenty, she preferred the dark, unapproachable look. It helped that high school and college taught women paranoia was a girl’s best friend- especially alone.

Janice chanced a glance at the boys next to her. The boys, ready to graduate if not already there, laughed and shoved each other. One’s usually unmanageable curly hair had been slicked back. The other looked to have tried to comb through his hair, but its length and natural curl defied all laws of grooming and care. The one who’d distastefully slicked his hair back elbowed the aisle seat one. His white shirt was curled up just past his elbows. The weather was cold through their winter break. The only real reason she could see behind him rolling up his sleeves like that would be to show off his muscles, which he did have.

The one next to him, who wore a white shirt with a green-gold buttoned shirt over it, dropped his glasses. With a muffled swear, he leaned down to grab them. Janice grabbed the wayfarer glasses and handed them back. “Heh. Nice shirt, nerd.” The boy put on his glasses and blinked. Janice’s eyes grew round. “Wait, no way! _Stans?_ ”

“Aw shit!” Stanley, who sat by the aisle seat, laughed. “Jan!”

Stanford grinned and sat up straight. “I didn’t expect to see you in here.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m pretty much everywhere.” Janice shrugged and brushed her russet hair behind her head. Her ancient hood slid back as well. “I thought your boyfriend said you were coming here on a fancy plane.”

Stanford shook his head. “No, no. Mom had already purchased the tickets.”

“Would’ve been way cooler to fly,” Stanley commented.

“Do I have to remind you about what happened the last time you flew?” Stanford countered.

Janice raised an eyebrow. “What did do? Raise the dead?”

“That was one time!” Stanford huffed. His indignance caused Janice and Stanley both to laugh. “Stanley just isn’t good at airports. The last time we went on a plane, he tried to steal candy from one of the stores and almost got us arrested.”

“Dude, I was _fourteen,_ ” Stanley pointed out. “I was terrible back then. I’ve really improved.”

Janice smirked. “You just keep getting better and better, don’t you, kid?”

“Hey! We’re nearly adults, Jan! You can’t call us kids!” Stanley squawked.

“Besides,” Stanford agreed. “You are technically only three years older than us.”

“I can buy drinks. Can you?” Janice prompted.

“You can?” Stanley grinned. “Man, why didn’t you start with that?”

“No, you can’t,” Stanford denied. “You have to be twenty-one.”

Janice shrugged. “Far as anyone knows, I turned a few months ago.” She smirked and showed off an ID she kept in her bag. “College kid, remember?”

Stanford let out an exasperated sigh. “The legal limit is twenty-one for a reason, Janice. Besides, what if someone catches you? You could get in a lot of trouble for that. Stanley!”

“Dude, who cares? College parties are legendary for a _reason!_ Right, Jan?”

“Oh definitely.” Janice leaned back and looked at her hand. “Pretty much all the cool people are in college now. I guess if someone has to, I’ll teach you little kidlings how to party.”

Stanley leaned back in his seat. “Sure, sure. I mean- what are you doing?”

They two turned their attention on Stanford. He looked up from his phone. “Hmm?”

Stanley looked over his shoulder. “Hey, man! Really?”

Janice looked him up and down. “What’s he doing?”

Stanford looked between them. “I’m texting Fiddleford. We’ll be there soon enough.”

“If Mabel and Dipper are mad at us when we get there, I’m totally blaming Jan,” Stanley claimed.

Jan huffed and held her hands up. “What?”

Stanley looked up at her. “Oh. I said that out loud. Weeeeeeeeell I didn’t mean it?”

Jan rolled her eyes and took to her phone. “I’ll blame you, kidling.” She passed through a few messages from Greg, one from Toby, and a couple of Daryl and Edwin who both seemed to have misplaced their phones and were asking Janice for help a whole state away. Finally, she got to Dan. _“Hey, I’m with the kids. Think they’re stirring up trouble. Want to frame them and watch Mabel eat them?”_

The response took a few moments to get back to her. _“She has my mom on speed dial, Jan. I’ll bring the popcorn.”_

“Now you’re texting them, too?” Stanley squawked.

Jan looked up at him. “Dude, I’m just texting my boyfriend. We’ll be there soon.”

 

_Dan_

Dan, overly heavy backpack over his shoulders, walked the familiar trail from the bus stop to home. A lot had changed since he was in high school. He’d grown up to be his father’s son. People were often surprised at his age as his beard grew in early and fast. At least he didn’t get ID checked very often. Not that he went out to places that needed IDs often, of course.

“Who’s that?”

Dan stopped and looked back. The frequently out-of-town former-owners-of-the-Mystery-Shack were in town again. Mabel and Dipper were on a hot pink motorcycle. Dipper looked queasy, but Mabel couldn’t be happier.

“Mrs. Pines! Mr. Pines!” Dan yelled, his smile nearly matching hers. “How’d Mexico go?”

“Hot!” Mabel set her helmet down on her bike and met Dan. “Like, super warm. I got to see an ancient ghost!”

“I got to change the tires on the RV,” Dipper agreed, albeit sarcastically.

“You had fun, party pooper!” Mabel scolded and turned to Dan. She looked him over. “Hmm… twenty years old, eh? Lookin’ good, Bear-food!”

Dan chuckled. “And you haven’t aged a day, Ms. Pines.”

“Shut up!” Mabel laughed. “Your mother was just telling me all about you. She’s–”

“-very excited to meet you again,” Dipper cut Mabel off. “We’ve got to get going. But welcome back home!”

“Thank you, Mr. Pines. Have a good day!” Dan gave them a little wave before continuing. He’d long since decided not to question Mabel. His mother liked to say she “works in mysterious ways”. As a kid, he didn’t know what she was talking about. Mabel was just his crazy boss who loved kittens and glitter and gave tours to some very well crafted “monsters”. But now… he still didn’t.

Dan stopped before his log cabin and knocked. The door was immediately answered by his oldest brother, who was graduating this year. “Danny!” The boy grinned and then leaned on the doorframe. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ve been replaced. I’m the man of the house, now.”

“Are you?” Dan prompted, a sly smile creeping up on him.

“Yep!”

“Then, as man of the house, you should be able to defend it, right?”

Markus’ smile relaxed a bit. “Yeah…?”

“Well, it looks like I’ve suddenly turned against you!” Dan put down his backpack. Before Markus could run off, Dan wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back.

Their youngest brother, Gus, who could almost drive with supervision, ran to the door. He burst into laughter. “Get ’im, Dan! Get ’im! He’s been too alpha while you’ve been gone!”

Their middle brother, Kevin, joined them. “Ey! You wait here! I’m going to go grab some popcorn!”

Markus groaned. “Does no one love me, anymore?”

Dan yelped and dropped Markus as an arm coiled around his neck and pushed him down. Wendy, her grin wide and bright, held Dan in a headlock. “Welcome back to the family, Danny!”

Dan squirmed out of his mother’s grasp. “I’d say I’m welcome, but I just got attacked!”

“You attacked me!” Markus complained, causing his other brothers to laugh and agree with Dan.

 

_Gideon_

“You’re doing great, son!” Gideon cupped his hands by his mouth to amplify his voice. It was hard to hear him over the din of the people around him. Bud’s eyes fell on his father. He grinned and waved. The sixteen-year-old boy stood at the top of a skate ramp, his skateboard held tight to his side.

Another boy, just a year or so older than Bud, spun and skated over the concrete like a professional. He landed at the lip of the park with an accomplished smirk. “Your turn, psychic!”

Bud set down his skateboard and hopped into the ramp. Gideon watched his son go. He’d improved quite a bit over the years. Despite being the youngest in this pack, he was just as good–if not better–than many of the members. Although many things change, some stay frozen in time. Bud didn’t shake off this nickname he’d picked up. Despite leaving the psychic business five years ago when Gideon shut down the business, Buddy was still as sharp and observant as ever and was still asked to “sing those funny songs” or what have you. Bud hated large crowds, so he only did his “psychic” shtick with a few people at a time- namely, his new pack of friends.

Gideon winced as Bud went a bit too fast and his turn was sloppy. He managed to balance himself out and continue the trick as if nothing had ever happened.

 

_Card Night_

They were at Mabel’s house again. Their group, a bit bigger now, were clustered around the card-playing table Wendy had arrived with. Now, they played together. Mabel, Dipper, Grenda, Candy, Wendy, Pacifica, and Maria sat around the card table. All of them held flashy cards with numbers or card symbols on them. Mabel set down a card whose face was blue with a four on it. She smiled at Dipper. “You like blue?”

Dipper grinned back. “You know, that was a good turn. I want to see it again.” He set down a blue card with two arrows side by side facing opposite directions.

Mabel chuckled. “No, no. It’s _your_ turn.” She put down a red reverse.

Dipper shrugged. “Okay. Sorry Grenda. Blame Mabel.” He put down a red card with two cards and a ‘+2’ at the top.

Grenda glanced at Candy. Candy gave her a very small nod. “Candy? Four.” Grenda sat down a blue ‘+2’.

Candy grinned and set down a yellow one. “Wendy. Six.”

Wendy shuffled through her cards and slapped down a green one. “Maria! Eight!”

Maria looked through her cards. “Mabel, ten.” A blue one was on top.

Dipper’s smile dropped like a stone. Mabel, cackling, set down a yellow one. “Why don’t you just take the whole deck?”

“I hate you so much.” Dipper grabbed the deck and took out the required amount. “You’re turn.”

Grenda set down a yellow eight. “Uno!”

As they played, the living room stayed active. Stanford and Fiddleford talked happily. Stanley, sitting cross legged on the floor, held a year-old child. The baby boy cooed and laughed as he was lifted into the air and then brought back down. Bud sat next to him, his hair still a bit messy from his recent skateboard practice. Janice played a calm song on her guitar. Maria would steal glances at her first son on occasion. Maria’s second was going to be here in a few months. Dan walked into the room, Gompers in his arms. “Ford, your goat tried eating my jacket _again._ ” He winced and moved his head as Gompers attempted to bite at Dan’s increasingly heavy beard..

Stanford broke off in his conversation with Fiddleford. Gompers, a very large and heavy one-horned goat, bleated. Dan set him down. “Hey, Gompers!” Stanford petted him as Gompers walked to his side. “I thought I raised you better than that. You’re supposed to be _stealthy_ about it.”

Dan crossed his arms. “Dude, it was cute when he was three pounds and all you had to do was stand up to make him stop. But this is getting ridiculous. He’s huge!”

“You’re huge!” Stanford countered. “We didn’t kick you out.”

“I don’t eat clothes!”

Stanley called from behind him, “I dunno. You guys smell the same.”

Mabel sighed. “Aw, kids. Aren’t they the best? Heh. Hey, boys! Careful around the kid!”

Stanley called back, “We aren’t doing anything, Grauntie Mabel! See? Totally fine! Still got all his arms and legs and stuff!”

Maria sent a nervous glance at Mabel. Mabel chuckled. “They’re fine, Maria. Besides, if they misbehave…” She looked around the table, her mischievous smile growing as the pact the mothers around the table made was referenced.

Fiddleford sent an uneasy glance back at the women and Dipper. “Ah don’t like the look yer great aunt’s makin’ Stanley.”

Stanley looked at Fiddleford. “I, uh, don’t either. Ow!” He winced as the baby pulled at his hair. “Baby’s attacking me! Ow! Help!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster hunters! Yay!  
> Hey, guys! I love fluff! Have I ever told you how much I love happy endings? I probably did. Haha I tried to write them as in character as possible. Hnnnnnng Teenagers who have 0 screen time are difficult to write. Teenager in general are hard to write, hey!  
> Also, just in case you haven't noticed, these are around the same time, give or take a few months. Most of them are in late Autumn, but Mab/Dip's are in the very late Summer/early Autumn.


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